by James Hunt
He shouldered his spear he had picked up from the smithy. Sebastian was more of a tinkerer than a real blacksmith, but he could work metal when he needed to. Trent had asked it to be sharpened while his lessons had been suspended and his practices had been hand-to-hand combat only. He tightened the lacing on his leather bracers while he descended into the depths of the catacombs - any sort of fidgeting he could do to take his mind off the macabre surroundings. The hallway had opened up to a central chamber dug out of the earth and reinforced with thick wooden beams. Burial champers were notched out of the walls and all the remains of deceased Brothers remained undisturbed. Despite the creepiness of his surroundings, it was a tranquil place. Not even rats scurried around.
The trip down was rather relaxing. The air was dry and heavy with old rot in some places. Trent covered his mouth with his hand when he reached heavier pockets of funky air, but it hardly helped. The structured catacombs soon turned into natural cave formations before erupting into an underground citadel of magnificent architecture Trent couldn't help but stop and whistle at its impressiveness. Granite columns soared up to the ceiling at regular intervals. Their caps lost to the darkness as the torches' light was greatly diminished in this wide open cavern. Trent followed the orange lights that showed him the way and it wasn't long before he heard voices.
"...hells is that?!" Conner was exclaiming as he and Garen were looking through a large stone archway in the wall into the next chamber. Inside, a blobulous creature larger than most houses sat calm and still and very alive. It had no face, nor a head of any sort, but it had what could only be called arms in the thinnest stretch of the word. More like tentacles of some sea creature that ended in all manner of grasping claw-like structures. Some resembled fingers, some claws, one looked like a mouth with no nose or eyes, and one... a plumage of cocks. It was alive. The random movement of those appendages was sign enough. But it didn't seem to have a mouth, never mind a head. Both Masters had taken up opposite sides of the doorway and were gazing upon the creature's hideous form with bewilderment.
"That, is The Mother," Trent said confidently and stopped in the middle of the archway between the two men. "And She is a demon."
"The fuck you on about Trent?" Connor demanded. "What's a Mother?"
"I'm guessing the source of Helrith's dark arts." Trent said and brought his spear off his shoulder, gave it a twirl, and dropped it into a one-handed charge position.
"A fucking demon?!" Conner said in disbelief. "How the hell is that our trial?"
"I'm only guessing..." Garen interjected. "That we're to cut off a piece and bring it back for Helrith. I don't see that fat cow getting near it. I don't see us killing it, not without a lot of fire, and that would ruin later trials, seeing as it seems to have grown too fat to leave this room it's obviously captive."
"Be my guest, I'm only here to die." Trent said with a sigh, planted the butt of his spear in the ground, and stared at his reflection in the blade head. The freshly polished head shined the torch light well enough to show him that he hadn't shaved in a few days.
"Enough of this," Garen said with a hiss and boldly stepped into the room. "Ho there, Mother!" He said in greeting. The creature didn't seem to notice him, or be able to respond. Garen approached cautiously, but the darkness of the room seemed to have played tricks on their eyesight as the closer he approached the farther away the Mother seemed to still be. Garen stopped, looked back, and upon finding himself alone and out of earshot beckoned the other two men to follow. Conner did immediately, not to be outdone, and Trent reluctantly came after. The moment he crossed the threshold a metal portcullis slammed down behind them.
"Of course." Trent muttered.
"What'd you do?" Conner hissed.
"I crossed the invisible line," Trent said nonchalantly and walked past him with his spear back over his shoulder. "Come along now Master, let us go die bravely."
"Fuck you Trent," Conner shot back, but followed him none the less.
Garen was waiting on them with his arms crossed over his chest irritable. Trent put a hand on Conner's shoulder to stop him.
"Hold," He said and brought his spear up before Garen. Conner had his hand on the curved sword strapped to his back but didn't pull it out... until he saw the fleshy tendril on the ground behind Garen and how it seemed to disappear behind him. He pulled his scimitar with a sharp ring of steel.
"How very astute," Garen said with a voice not his own. He started to float up into the air, but it was the tendril attached to the back of his neck that was lifting him off the ground. "This one was not so wise. All too easy in fact." The inhumane voice said with a hint of mirth. Garen's body started to convulse sporadically. His legs started to shrivel and shrink until they were just skin over bone. Then the bones disappeared with a disgusting crunched, and that was when the two men saw something -inside- Garen moving around devouring his insides. Connor looked to be sick, but Trent took a deep calming breath and took two quick glances to his left and right. Tendrils were encircling them.
"I think we just failed." Trent snorted.
"Why do you say that?" The monster inside Garen mused, hurt. "I only require two, but I may choose to take three." One of Garen's arms shriveled up, and was sucked up inside his torso.
"Fuck you and your 'two', Monster!" Conner shouted and hacked for the first pink fleshy tendril he could reach. It wiggled out of the way with unnatural speed and his blade hit stone floor. He turned around angrily ready to strike something, and found his opponent to be what remained of Garen - a torso, head, and one good arm with a dagger in its hand. The creature used Garen's remains like a puppet and struck at Conner. The man defended himself and the two did battle, clashing steel against steel. Despite its grotesque nature, the monster was using Garen's abilities to its fullest. She even scored a few good hits on Conner's limbs. Connor scored his own mortal wounds, but his opponent was already dead, and the blows did not avail him.
Against a dead foe, Connor was no match, and in a moment of fatigue from the intense fighting, the Monster sliced open his throat. Yet before he could cover it, it had seized the opportunity of mortal panic and shoved an agile tendril into the wound. The unholy sounds it made as it devoured him from the inside made Trent's stomach turn. Trent collapsed to the stone and involuntarily emptied his gut, but having skipped breakfast there was nothing but stomach juice on the floor.
The monster hovered Garen's remains directly above him. He didn't look up at first. He didn't want to see it coming, but when it didn't, he braved a look. One of Garen's eyeballs popped out from an escaping tendril and seemed to look at him.
"I see you," The Creature said.
"Do you now?" Trent said with a bit a growing hysteria at the absurdity of his situation. He sat down, crossed his legs, laid his spear against his neck, and readied his grip to take his own head off.
"I like the Trent cock." It said in the Mischievous' voice.
Trent gritted his teeth angrily. His face betrayed his resolve, and he broke into sad, half mad sobs.
"Don't you want my power Trent?" It said dispirited.
"To what end?" Trent snarled. "To change the leash around my neck from one crazy old man to something I cannot even begin describe?"
"For her?" The creature said in The Mischievous' voice. It had finished devouring the rest of Garen's body from within. Just his head remained attached to the end of a swaying tentacle. "Become strong for her? Make her free! Run far away! Live happy! Have many babies." it said sweetly. "Take my power."
"Fuck you." He laughed and yanked down hard on the spear. The butt slipped, and instead of taking his head clean off, it sliced through his throat, and he was alive long enough to feel his blood gush from the wound. He was still alive when a tentacle snaked inside and began to work its way down his throat and into his body.
Mercifully, that was the last thing he felt.
*****
Tamain sat leaning against the remains of a fallen tree trunk in silent reflection. The
way he sat with his legs splayed out, his arms folded over his chest and his chin tucked into the high collar of his dark leather vest made it seem that he was napping. So he was left alone. He had been one of the few that had stayed up all night. Corella hadn't bothered him all morning, and Kelria took her cue from her mentor in the ways of the Discarded and also left her dark lover to his thoughts.
The Zecairins broke their breakfast with roasted rodent and some wild red berries Pemmi had found. Kelria sat with them, despite being reunited with her people - she was their one Lunarin member. Her pale complexion, short stature and endowed build was out of place amid the tall, dark, and lithe shadow elves. Her former comrades, the fair skinned Lunarin elves, had yet to stir from their tents in the trees. The celebration had gone on until the late hours of the morning, until the wine was all gone and sleep could no longer be put off. Kelria expected it would still be many hours still until the Lunarians stirred. Unless they were roused early by their Captain.
"Rollis?" Tamain finally said out loud.
"Aye," The archer said in that naturally grating voice of his as he stood. Having finished his portion of the catch he had been restringing his bow with a new Lunarin made line.
"A Blooded Mistress was captured last night and tied to a tree. You will find her in that direction." Tamain pointed. Rollis walked a few paces to orientate himself to that direction. "Take care of her."
"Aye," Rollis grunted and walked off. He knew what was required.
"Whether our new allies approve or not, she and any other of our kin that we encounter are our responsibility, not theirs. The Queen and I need to discuss rules, but she feels this as well as she could have killed this one. No matter what comes hereafter, we will not let them murder more of us. Blooded or not, we capture our kin first unless they give us no other option." His soldiers acknowledged his order with a nod and a smile. Kelria suddenly realized that these Discarded did not often show their true feelings. Last night they smiled, laughed, danced and told stories, but underneath the friendliness was a blade prepared to swing. Of course there would be some problems with openly allying themselves with the Leaf Knights. And Tamain had just laid one such problem to rest.
Someone approached.
Tamain struggled to his feet. Kelria could tell he was tired. He hadn't slept. Not since he had slain the demon spawn had Tamain even tried to sleep. And Kelria didn't know how to help. She wanted to. There wasn't much else she could do, she wasn't a skilled combatant, or a tracker, or even a magic user despite Corella's patient training.
"Tamain," Niyana called out.
"Here," Tamain said and composed himself. Niyana appeared from around a tree, pushing a branch out of the way so she could pass. She was alone, dressed in uniform, and armed.
"Walk with me?" She asked. Her tone was polite, but still cold as steel. Kelria suddenly wanted to hide from her sight. Niyana gave the girl a casual look, a soft smile, and upon seeing her uneasiness, a friendly wink. "Can you call Eola to join us?"
"Eola..." Tamain said to the wind and a soft breeze suddenly picked up and carried his words away. Niyana nodded and wandered off, Tamain followed. His eyesight was getting better, but... there was something else off with him this morning. Kelria's doubts and self consciousness were eating her up inside. She had changed sides for him, but ever since that horrible day when they found the Demon Spawn he had grown distant. It was making her miserable. Had he used her to set up this meeting and now he was done with her? Once they were out of sight, she sighed, slumped her head in her hand, and wrote random letters in the dirt with her dagger. For a former bookkeeper, it was something to keep her mind off things.
"The humans of this Monastery are masters of combat. Your people would be at a disadvantage engaging them." Niyana said. She pulled her cloak around her shoulders and hid herself underneath it. It wasn't the morning chill air she was guarding against, it was her own uncertainty. Tamain could read that much from her.
"Do you still see violence as the only option?" He replied.
"Only the most likely," She replied in kind. His intelligence was... pleasant. He knew how to dance around the barbs of an issue without being obviously sycophantic or argumentative. He didn't attack with his disagreements, as Iala and Brylen did. "The spend their days training for a war during a time of uneasy peace between the three kingdoms. Their dealings with people outside their fortress are few. Such a place would make sense if they sent their soldiers off once they graduated - as if they were an academy for combat - but they don't. The trail of Demon's Blood leads to them, but that could be just a rumor. And..." She had another point but couldn't find the words. Tamain knew what it was.
"Eola's demon spawn?" He said. Connecting her request to the topic. "It was sired by a human she found half dead in the woods. He was traveling to this place." Niyana nodded. She walked a few more steps, and then suddenly froze. Tamain saw it in her step, stopped in his tracks, and listened for the disturbance that spooked this Lunarin Knight but heard nothing that came from around them. She turned to face him. There was an uncertain emotion in her posture he could not yet identify due to his blurry eyesight, but he could hear her breath grow heavy.
"What was his name?" She finally asked. Her voice was trying to mask the conflicting emotions that got the better of her as they were beaten down by her own reason. Tamain heard a little bit of fear, relief, panic, elation, longing, worry, anger, disbelief... and too many others to identify. She had a connection to this place she hadn't spoken of yet, and Tamain suspected that this human of Eola's might be an unlikely thread that bound them together.
"She did not tell me." He said. But no sooner had he said the words, than he heard the soft flap of wings and the tall graceful harpai walked from around a tree to join them. She allowed him a good look - - before folding them around her body. Niyana turned, composed herself with a breath, and flipped her hair back behind her head.
"Eola, what was the name of the man you laid with? The one that sired the demon spawn?" She almost demanded. Her tone caught the Harpai off guard. The bird woman paused uncertainly and looked to Tamain for answers. He couldn't read her expression to help. He nodded to say 'It's okay' silently, but she didn't seem to relax. Eola took a hesitant step back and considered her options. She didn't know why this man's name was important, but the Lunarin Queen's countenance told her she would take it from her lips by force if she had to.
"You have my support, my lady," Tamain said. "Please tell her."
"I am not so feeble to require the protection of you," Eola almost snapped at him. "I have outlived more Lunarin Queens and Kings than you could remember." Niyana reached up to her own ear and gave it a painful tweak to which elicited a groan of aggravation.
"I'm, sorry. Eola. That was rude to demand it." Niyana said with a sigh, after she collected herself and beat back the torrent of emotions. "It is very important that I hear his name. I may have met this man before. I apologize if I sounded like I was commanding you. I am asking." her change in posture worked instantly. Tamain was also surprised to hear such a candid apology.
"He called himself Rad." Eola said.
The name hit her hard in the chest. She collapsed to her knees and fell forward. Her heart began to pound out of her chest and her breath grew more and more labored. "He lives." She almost cried. Eola looked uncertainly to Tamain. He could, in her obvious body language, see then the mother's instinct to want to console a panic stricken child, but she was still unable to approach a light elf easily. Niyana's reaction confused them both. It was unsettling to see the Queen of Lunar fall apart with just the mention of a name.
"Is he the man that freed you from Zecair?" Tamain asked gingerly.
"The same." Niyana managed to get out. One hand clutched her cloak above her heart and the other clawed up deep handfuls of dirt and leaves as she wrestled back this panic attack. Tamain knelt and placed a hand on her trembling back. Niyana jerked away and glared at him. At this close of a distance he could read her face final
ly and he could see the torrent of a reverie - she was reliving it all again and all at once. He cautiously moved back, such a powerful experience could drag her back there and she may forget where she was now. Such was the problem way with powerful elven memories.
"I will speak of this to no one. How may I help?" he said in earnest. It took her a moment to acknowledge him, but she ignored him and turned to look at Eola as if to say something, but it caught in her throat with a whimper. The ancient woman could see what was in elf girl's heart. Eola gasped.
"It could have been her." Eola explained and approached Niyana calmly to reassure her. "She might have sired that abomination first." she knelt and placed a hand on the elf's cheek. Niyana nodded violently in agreement. Their eyes met in a womanly understanding. Despite being absolutely terrified, Niyana was winning the inner battle of shock and started to regain herself. This man, Rad, was now more of a monster to her than she had ever known him to be.
Tamain saw the thread that connected them together now, and silently his heart sank. The Lunarin Queen would be all the more forceful in approaching the humans now.